


Transfer

by Fishwichformylove



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Human AU, Intercrural Sex, M/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, There is the barest whisper of a plot here if you listen closely and pretend, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishwichformylove/pseuds/Fishwichformylove
Summary: Arthur and Alfred have one last risqué rendezvous before work obligations force a big change on them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous on tumblr requested the following from a prompt list: "Sex on a countertop/tabletop/sink because we couldn't wait to get somewhere with cushions". 
> 
> I mashed that up with a request from literal YEARS ago for office sex. I'm the worst. 
> 
> This is basically 3000 words of gratuitous nsfw nonsense, but it's been a minute since I've done that. Let me live.

“We could go to my—”

Arthur is cut off by the nearly unpleasant force of Alfred slamming his mouth against him. It’s not much good as a kiss, since the loving blow lands more on the side of his chin than his lips. He’s bent backwards, his thighs being bit into by the stripped down desk behind him as Alfred smacks and huffs against his face, pawing at him while he tries to simultaneously peel off Arthur’s suit jacket and keep his arms wrapped around him tight. Arthur lets the heat and giddiness of it all soothe his concern for a moment and smiles as he corrects the angle of their kissing.

“It’s not that far,” he interjects when Alfred finally stops for a rasping breath. If Alfred registers the teasing tone of his voice he doesn’t show it, looking at Arthur with an out of place seriousness that makes Arthur’s stomach turn somersaults.

“I really can’t wait that long,” he rumbles, and returns to pushing at Arthur’s jacket, this time with his mouth against whatever bits of Arthur’s throat aren’t covered up by his shirt collar. “The office is empty. I want you now.”

“Hard to argue with that, er, logic,” Arthur chokes out with a laugh, hoping he doesn’t sound as affected by Alfred’s bluntness as he feels in his blood.

As good as their already forbidden liaisons are in the privacy of their own homes, the danger of being in the office appeals to Arthur in a way that surprises him. He’s fantasized about this before, some late night office indiscretion that ends with documents and writing utensils flung to the far reaches of the sad little room, clothes ripped and ruined beyond repair. In reality, Arthur is glad his belongings are already neatly divided and stacked into two boxes in the hallway. He ruminates on his own fussiness as Alfred finally manages to get his jacket off, chucking it noisily against the plastic blinds shielding the communal office space from their off-kilter rutting. Fighting the urge to reprimand, Arthur chooses instead to demonstrate better behavior by efficiently divesting Alfred of his own jacket, and tie for good measure. He even manages to fling them semi-neatly over his rolling chair before Alfred pushes him up to sit on the desk, kicking the chair away to clatter against the wall.

Alfred is all heat and teeth and tongue as he flits from one piece of Arthur’s clothing to the next. It’s as if he can’t decide what to peel away, spending a few seconds on Arthur’s tie, then shirt, then belt, but making progress with none. Arthur smiles woozily around another series of eager kisses, letting Alfred fumble. He grips the edge of the desk, not wanting to give an inch more ground as Alfred presses into him, toeing his shoes off clumsily.

Somewhere in the middle of getting lost in the feeling of Alfred’s hands all over him, Arthur has missed the moment his shirt and tie were taken, and he shivers. If anything, that increases Alfred’s touching, fingers suddenly brushing hair behind Arthur’s ear, floating across his cheeks and nipples, palms smoothing warming circles across his back, hands gripping his hips. He’s overwhelmed and disoriented, and Alfred crashes over him like a wave.

Arthur is pressed flat against the cold wood of the desk, trousers yanked down, caught and hanging limply from one ankle. Alfred crawls over him, a knee pressed firmly against Arthur’s crotch. The desk creaks in protest, and Arthur is flooded with the twin thoughts of fear that they’ll break it, and a lusty thrill at the thought they might. His head lolls over the edge of the desk, making him wonderfully and horribly dizzy and uncomfortable as Alfred sucks at his neck. He lets arousal take over for as long as he can hold the discomfort off, then sits up and pushes Alfred off of him.

“This is murder on my neck,” he explains, wincing as the bare skin of his back pulls away from the surface of the desk, sticky and stinging.

“Sorry,” Alfred mumbles, and he genuinely seems to be, slowing down his frantic petting as he steps into the space between Arthur’s legs and holds him.

Their kisses are deeper now, passionate in a knowing way instead of blind attempts at eliciting an escalating reaction. Arthur finally manages to undo the buttons on Alfred’s shirt, rubbing his palms over the soft, warm skin of his belly. He cups his hands along Alfred’s ribs for a moment, savoring the feeling of his expanding muscles as he pulls each heavy breath in and out. Alfred drags him closer, almost off the desk, grinding against him. It doesn’t take much before Arthur is hard and straining against his underwear, impatiently tugging at Alfred’s belt and buttons and zipper to return the favor.  
  
Alfred finishes what Arthur started and gets his trousers and underwear off in one go. He tilts Arthur back enough to peel off his underwear, and Arthur shivers once at the feeling of the desk beneath his bare ass, and again as Alfred’s hand wraps around his cock. He can’t reciprocate at first, hands clutching at Alfred’s bare hips, lowering his forehead against the soft fabric of the shirt barely clinging to Alfred’s shoulders. Arthur forces himself to breathe steadily, his own hot gasps puffing back against his face. When he finally does manage to get a hand on Alfred, he relishes in Alfred’s sudden loss of rhythym and the low groan he lets out curled against Arthur’s neck. There is a mix of smug satisfaction and authentic gratitude in knowing he can make Alfred squirm and buck, that the attraction and arousal isn’t as one sided as he’d once thought.

As good as it feels, their stroking is too dry and ill prepared. Without a better solution, Arthur spits in his hand before returning it to Alfred’s cock, something he’d normally find distasteful, but is too deep in the moment to care about. Alfred’s approach is significantly more sensuous, running his thumb over Arthur’s bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth. Arthur sucks and licks at it eagerly, only slightly embarrassed by how filthy it makes him feel. Once his thumb is slick, Alfred removes it and presses is two middle fingers flat against Arthur’s tongue. He pulses them slightly as Arthur wraps his lips around them, fucking his mouth gently, careful not to gag him. Arthur’s face burns, and he aches for Alfred to touch him again. He wets Alfred’s fingers thoroughly, then traces his tongue across his palm before kissing it lightly. Alfred bites his lip through a smile, hand returning to where Arthur needs it most as he leans in to kiss him again.

They rub and roll against each other, free hands grabbing and petting and pinching hungrily. Arthur is in the middle of thinking about how much he wishes Alfred could just fuck him on this awful little desk, when Alfred kisses up his cheek to breathe hotly in his ear.

“Flip over.”

Arthur does as he’s told even as he argues against it.

“I don’t think we’re going to manage _that_.”

“No, not that, hold on,” Alfred says with a snort, then runs a wet hand between Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur bends over the desk, cooling his burning cheek against the wood as he flushes with the anticipation of what’s to come. He hears Alfred opening all the drawers in the desk rapidly and slamming them shut, and he arches up to look over his shoulder questioningly.

“Man, you really did clear this place out, huh?”

“What are you look—”

“Hold on, I got it.”

Alfred bends to retrieve his pants from around his ankles, dropping them again once he’s fished his wallet out of one of the pockets. He thumbs through it for a moment, then pulls out two small plastic packets. One is a condom, which he tosses to the floor, the other a smaller item. He rips it open with his teeth and squeezes the contents onto his fingers, and Arthur can’t contain his laughter and eye rolling.

“Of course you have that.”

“Guy can dream, right?” Alfred says with a mischievous grin, rubbing the lube on his cock before wiping the rest between Arthur’s thighs.

Leaning on his elbows, Arthur cranes his neck to kiss Alfred again as his entire body sings at the feeling of Alfred’s warm, hard cock slipping easily between his legs. He squeezes his thighs shut, loving Alfred’s sharp intake of breath. Alfred doesn’t move for a moment, steadying himself before dropping a kiss onto Arthur’s shoulder and beginning to press himself in and out. It’s slow and awkward at first, the angle tricky to maintain, but soon they find a thrilling pulse that has Arthur gripping the desk and dropping his forehead to the wood again.

The thrusts grow more aggressive, and Arthur finds himself pushed painfully up against the edge of the desk, a hard line cutting across his stomach as Alfred clenches at his hips mercilessly. It’s so hot between his legs that Arthur thinks he might melt, the unpleasantness of the position tempered by the sensation of Alfred’s cock rubbing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and behind his testicles, and the slight tickle as the edges of Alfred’s shirt flutter against Arthur’s sides. He reaches a hand down to stroke himself and protect his erection from being rammed against the desk as Alfred’s pace quickens. They’re both groaning and straining, Arthur going on tiptoe, struggling to keep his legs pressed so tightly together, and Alfred hunched over him with his forehead bumping against Arthur’s spine.

Before Alfred can even choke the words out, Arthur can feel his impending orgasm from the stilted jerk of his hips slamming against his ass. He worries briefly that Alfred won’t think to pull away and will ruin the carpet. But the thought disappears as Alfred digs his nails into the fleshy spot of his hips, drawing his cock out from between Arthur’s wet, throbbing thighs and pressing it against his ass, cumming down the back of his leg. He makes a low, guttural sound against Arthur’s back, something that would almost sound like a cry of pain if it weren’t for the dripping evidence to the contrary.

  
They catch their breath, Arthur’s knuckles still white from gripping the desk, his legs shaking as he stays on the tips of his toes. Alfred kisses his back again, and straightens, tenderly running his fingers over the back of Arthur’s quivering thighs and wiping away his cum.

“I have a handkerchief in my pocket,” Arthur chokes out when he’s finally able to relax and find his voice.

He doesn’t move, too content and tired, as Alfred finds the handkerchief and runs it over the stickiest parts of Arthur’s ass and legs. He’s both cold and hot, the chill of the table hardening his nipples, but the heat of their frottage leaving a thin layer of sweat across his body. Alfred finishes his tidying up and pulls Arthur up against him into a tender back-to-chest hug, kissing his cheek and down his neck. His hands skate lovingly down his chest and stomach, wrap around his waist for a moment, and then travel lower. Arthur lets his head fall back against Alfred’s shoulder, eyes closed, as Alfred slowly strokes his cock. He could finish this way, he thinks, but the thought is short lived as Alfred pecks his cheek jovially and stops his ministrations.

“Hop up on the thing again.”

“You have a thing for the desk, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Alfred says with a chuckle as he pulls up his trousers and fastens them.

Alfred retrieves the rolling chair and plops down into it, scooting himself closer to Arthur so he’s between his legs. He’s still tall enough to kiss, which Arthur takes advantage of, balancing the balls of his feet against the seat of the chair. It’s obviously not the level Alfred wants to be at, since he pulls the lever underneath the seat, plummeting half a foot dramatically. Arthur can’t help laughing, covering his mouth with both hands. Alfred’s shock soon turns to a fit of giggles as well, and he leans his forehead against Arthur’s knee, shaking his head back and forth at his own ridiculousness.

“Did I ruin the moment?”

“Does it feel like it?” Arthur asks in reply, taking Alfred’s hand and moving it to his still hard cock.

Alfred doesn’t answer, and instead licks his lips and leans in. He kisses and sucks his way across Arthur’s stomach, beneath his belly button, down to the valley of his hips as Arthur leans back on his palms. His cock brushes teasingly against Alfred’s cheek and chin and throat, so close to satisfaction and far enough away to frustrate.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” Arthur hints, threading his fingers through Alfred’s hair and guiding his head down closer to where it’s wanted.

“I was. But I got mine. I want to spoil you.”

“Consider me spoiled. Get on with it.”

Alfred snorts and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue. He gives Arthur a heated look as he envelops the head of his cock with his mouth. Arthur’s eyes slip closed and he loses track of where he is, what he’s feeling, the sounds he’s making. It all begins to run together; the pressure of Alfred’s lips and tongue, the way his hands trail over Arthur’s body, the wet heat of his mouth, the cold air leaking through the vents and making Arthur’s skin prickle, the soft sucking sounds, the irregular gasps and moans. He barely realizes he’s got his fingers tangled in Alfred’s hair, thick and a little crunchy from sweat and hairspray, pulling his head back and forth as he fucks his mouth. Arthur’s stomach burns from the effort of leaning back and supporting his weight and the effort of not orgasming too soon. But Alfred has him pulsing and spilling into his mouth before he can register it’s the end, and his legs tremble involuntarily from the euphoria of it all.

He feels Alfred swallow around him, then take him further in his mouth again to lick him clean. The sudden overstimulation makes Arthur’s breath catch in his chest, and he feels lightheaded. He still can’t bring himself to open his eyes, and there’s a moment when Alfred pulls away from him where he feels weightless, like he’s floating in midair instead of sitting on a cold, sticky desk. It’s a short lived feeling, though, as he’s immediately grounded by the warmth of Alfred cradling him against his chest, peppering his face with featherlight kisses. His lips feel cool against Arthur’s cheeks and forehead and he circles his arms around Alfred’s neck, gripping his shirt and pulling him close. Arthur comes back to himself slowly, rewarded with gentle, languid kisses, unhurried in their exploration.

“You’re so pink,” Alfred murmurs in something close to awe as he traces a finger across Arthur’s chest.

Arthur shivers abruptly and looks Alfred up and down with a scowl.

“Why do I always end up more naked than you?”

“Because you look better naked?” Alfred offers, rubbing his hands up and down Arthur’s arms to warm him.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Arthur smacks Alfred’s chest with mock indignation, both of them laughing and play fighting before Alfred captures both of Arthur’s wrists and puts an end to it. He leans in until their foreheads are touching, and heaves a melancholy sigh.

“Do you think there’s a chance they’ll send you back?”

“I don’t know. This was only ever meant to be temporary.”

“Yeah, but we need you here. You’ve fixed so much.”

“And that’s why they’re calling me back. I did what I was supposed to do. This branch doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred sighs again, and Arthur joins him in his morose silence.

“You couldn’t just be bad at your job so I could keep you here, could you?”

Arthur laughs, the tinge of sadness far too audible. He kisses Alfred as sweetly as he can manage, cupping his face.

“If I could go back in time, I would be utterly inept and stay here forever.”

“Attaboy,” Alfred quips with a half grin. “What am I supposed to do now? London’s so far.”

“I know.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that, so he closes his eyes and runs his hands over his face.

“What? You didn’t know that? Because I do.”

Alfred coaxes Arthur’s hands away from his face and kisses him in a way that does wonders for the ache settling in Arthur’s chest.

There are a thousand things Arthur would like to say in return, but he settles on, “Will you let me take you back to my place now?”

“Let’s go.”

Alfred helps Arthur collect his clothing and get dressed, the silence comfortable even in it’s bittersweetness. Once everything is straightened up, there’s not a shred of evidence that anything occurred between them here. That bothers Arthur more than it should, so he heads for the door.

“Maybe I can find a way to transfer over there.”

“Would you?” Arthur turns to Alfred, who is running his fingers over the desk in looping patterns.

“Think I can find someone to recommend me?” he asks, a real smile teasing Arthur out of his dark cloud.

“I think I know someone.”

“Yeah?”

Arthur nods solemnly, and lets himself be swept up in Alfred’s enthusiastic kiss with a smile. Whether or not anything can come of it, it feels good to let there be hope.

He holds the door open for Alfred, checking that there are no signs of life left in the office. Alfred gives him a goofy thumbs up before bending over to retrieve one of Arthur’s boxes.

Arthur looks back into his office and breathes deeply, drawing in one last breath of this place, now mixed with the scent of their lovemaking. He smiles at that, turns off the light, and walks out of the door for the last time, unsure where he is going beyond home, with someone he loves.  



End file.
